


As the World Falls Apart

by StrangerSerpent



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Apocalypse, End of the World, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:22:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6943390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerSerpent/pseuds/StrangerSerpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Evan Sabahnur wasn’t a country-boy from Kansas – wasn’t a sophisticated city boy – hell, he wasn’t even a “real” boy. He was a clone conceived and grown in a sterile tube in a lab. All his childhood memories were fed to him and fake; most of his identity was that of someone else that didn’t exist. Who even was he? With almost nothing of his own, he had no self and no home…</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the World Falls Apart

As the World falls apart

.

So Evan Sabahnur wasn’t a country-boy from Kansas – wasn’t a sophisticated city boy – hell, he wasn’t even a “real” boy. He was a clone conceived and grown in a sterile tube in a _lab_. All his childhood memories were fed to him and fake; most of his _identity_ was that of someone else that didn’t exist. Who even _was_ he? With almost nothing of his own, he had no self and no home…

So why did he wrap his arms around the person pressed against him; press his face against the cropped-short, and shockingly pink hair?

He breathed in the scent of sweat and smoke and blood.

Why did the arms around him feel like home?

The two men rocked back and forth to a song only they could hear.

“I always thought you’d have two left feet, Apocalypse,” the shorter man smiled, “Like a retarded bull in a china shop.” He chuckled at the description.

“I figured sometime before I die I might encounter a time when dancing was appropriate, so naturally I decided to practice, Quentin,” Evan quipped. He let his lips quirk upwards, “Edith Piaf’s _La Vie en Rose_ is a beautiful song.”

“Good enough for the Apocalypse?”

“Wonderful to come home to.”

All the research from all sources in his life lead to his conclusion: home is a feeling. Home is anywhere as long as you feel whatever _this_ was – _is_.

Whatever this is.

“You have a shitty home,” Quentin looked up at him with brown eyes covering conflict, “You should get a new one.” He sounds like he wants to whisper, but he keeps his voice strong even as it cracks.

“None of them were right,” Evan wanted to say. “Don’t talk about yourself like that” was what he said instead.

“ _Hah_ ,” Quentin scoffed. He flushes and hides his face by looking forwards, “With the end of the world you become an asshole. Fitting, Sabahnur. _Real_ smooth.” The emotions the telepath emitted negated the sarcasm in his tone.

The two swayed silently and listened to the wind howl and rubble beneath their feet crumble to dust.

After a moment, Evan brought his hands to frame Quentin’s face and he pressed their lips together chastely. Quentin reached up to pull Evan in closer, his brow furrowed. They kiss through the heat and cold that surrounds them. They cling to each other as they’re swallowed by the duality of destruction and rebirth.

Quentin sighs as they pull apart, an expression of resignation upon his face, “This… this isn’t like any of those other times, is it?”

Evan thinks not.

Quentin’s eyes shut and he breathes in the scent of sun and sweat and barley as it sways in the wind, and he gives the image to his partner. It may not be home, but it’s familiar.

“Does it smell like Kansas?” he speaks. Evan can feel him shaking, but so is he.

He nods. “Wish I could return the favor,” Evan smiles sadly, the phantom scent fading from his senses.

Quentin laughs but he doesn’t speak.

Neither of them do as the world falls apart beneath their feet.

.

End


End file.
